


Manual Recovery

by eerian_sadow



Series: Tri-Unity [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: tf_speedwriting, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arcee has questions. Jazz has answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manual Recovery

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/eerian_sadow/pic/000rybz3/)

 

 

The way she looked at him with those big blue optics was almost creepy. They followed him around the room, wherever and however he moved. It was a little like having a stalker, but without all the following and unwanted advances.

When he caught her staring, instead of just knowing she was doing it when he wasn’t facing her, Jazz knew he finally had his chance to confront her.

He slid into the free seat across from her. Arcee looked down and away, embarrassment plain on her faceplates.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t help it sometimes.”

“Well, you’re about to give me a paranoia complex to rival the security director in Iacon. What’s up with that?”

Arcee looked at him with confusion. “What?”

The guardsmech waved his hand dismissively. “Earth slang. Means I want to know why you’re doing it.”

“Oh.” The femme went back to looking at the surface of the table. Absently, she picked at a bit of paint that had been dropped by one of Bulkhead’s many projects. “Some of my memories are still fragmented and I just… I feel like I know you from somewhere, but I can never access the data.”

Jazz chuckled a bit. “That’s it? You should have just said something. I’d’ve set you straight.”

“Really? You would?” Her expression brightened considerably. “There are so many things the others never want to talk about, that I’m not sure it’s ever safe to ask. But I want to know everything I can about who I am.”

“I can dig that.” The ninja stood for a moment and grabbed two cans of oil off a nearby storage shelf. He handed one to her as he sat back down. “It’s Earth made, so it’ll taste different than what you’re used to but it’s not bad at all. Now, tell me what you remember about those sweet swords you’re carrying around.”

Reflexively, Arcee’s fingers reached for the hilt of one of the energy blades. “I remember that they were given to me when I went into Intelligence. My superior thought a close combat weapon would be more useful than a pistol or rifle if I was caught in the field. And there was… and old mech who taught me how to use them, but that’s all I remember.”

Jazz sipped at his oil as she spoke. “Well, the old mech was a ninja master named Yoketron. He trained me and Prowl and a bunch of other mechs whose names probably won’t mean a lot to you. You weren’t at the dojo long, just about a meta-cycle, before Intelligence sent you off on your first mission.”

Lockdown being one of Master Yoketron’s students was a story for another time. He was quite certain she wasn’t ready for that yet.

“You were there? Is that how I met you?”

“Yes indeed.” He flashed her a winning smile. “I didn’t have all my mods yet, or this sweet paint job, but I was there. You probably saw me scrubbing floors more often than anything else. Was Master’s favorite way to cool my jets when I got out of hand.”

Arcee’s face lit up as he spoke. “I remember! You were silver back then, and a little slimmer, but you still had the visor. We would eat those strands of compressed energon together in the evening after training was over.”

Jazz nodded happily, truly glad that she had remembered. “On Earth, they have something similar that they call noodles. Sounds a lot better, so Prowl and I have started calling Master’s concoction energon noodles. I could make some, if you want; I think we’ve got everything I need around the base. Be like old times.”

“I’d like that.” The femme’s smile could have lit the room. “As long as I don’t have to manually fill the cleaning tub with solvent afterward.”

The shared a companionable chuckle at that and then sat and talked for hours before Jazz finally got up to make the noodles.

**Author's Note:**

> Jazz's coloring while he was in training is a nod to the Freeway Jazz figure, which is possibly one of my favorite toy repaints ever.


End file.
